A Selfish Request

The readings this week are important. Thinking beyond “only yes means yes” consent is essential. I knew that I would deeply relate to these articles, and I knew they would make me uncomfortable. Part of what I love about this class, and about this department as a whole, is that I’ve learned to live with, work through, and better myself with uncomfortable truths. Being an activist means looking at yourself every day and asking how you’re participating in problematic cultures, and how to undo your complicity in oppressive structures. However, I need to get this class out of my sex life. I’m not concerned about a failure to please my partner, or that I may have experienced this gray area of non-consent. My concern is simple, and I apologize in advance for oversharing. Analyzing every single sexual encounter that I have just straight up isn’t sexy.  

Hakvag aptly points out that when active consent is not an option, women also lose the option of non-consent (122). In these situations, feigning active, enthusiastic consent is both the safest option physically but is emotionally safe as well. If a person only ever says yes to sexual advances, being raped becomes impossible, right? In the years following my own rape, this was precisely the logic I followed. I truly came into my own as a sex-positive feminist, which is still something I closely identify with. I told myself that I couldn’t know what I wanted until I tried it out, and thus often, and with enthusiasm, said yes when propositioned for dates, friendships, sex, and virtually every other opportunity that came my way. By reacting positively to every aspect of my life, I felt indestructible. How could anyone violate my consent again if I always consented?

Of course, this is a prime example of coercion being “internalized” (123). Although at the time I certainly thought I was in control, I was doing what I had to do to stay safe. Through discomfort, therapy, and self-reflection, I learned that what I was doing to survive was actually a form of self-harm. Saying yes and thinking later led me to unpleasant sexual encounters, boring dates, and at worst, re-traumatizing myself. In some cases, “giving in” to unwanted sex was almost as bad as my initial rape, except that I became the person who didn’t value my consent. Part of my recovery was to analyze every sexual encounter before, during, and after, and constantly check in with myself about whether or not I was doing what I truly wanted. I learned not only how to say no, but to realize when I needed to, and how to find partners who would respect that. Although there are certainly times where I slip up, I am happy to say that I am so aware of my own consent, that I don’t need to debilitate over it every time I engage in sex at this point. I have at least partially, and most of the time, undone the socialization that tells me I shouldn’t want to have sex on my own volition, and should, therefore, acquiesce when propositioned. 

I am thankful for Hakvag and Gavey’s insights, and I believe they are spot on in their analysis of consenting to unwanted sex. I think it is especially crucial to be aware of the ways rape culture co-opts feminism to allow empowerment to stand in for desire (124). All of this being said, I would like to find a way to extricate theory from my bedroom. How do survivors engage with such important material without constantly rehashing their own experiences? Alternatively, is it productive to do this revisiting? Can we theorize rape without theorizing ourselves?